


Ancient City of Love

by coolbreeze1



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Technology, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbreeze1/pseuds/coolbreeze1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not even Sheppard notices how much time he's spending on Atlantis repairs until he's offworld and problems ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ancient City of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a comment fic exchange over at sheppard_hc (September 2010)

“Sheppard, what are you doing down here again?”

Rodney stumbled to a halt inside the chair room at the sight of the colonel in the chair, diagrams and lights flashing above his head.

“Just checking stuff,” Sheppard mumbled, his attention focused on the ceiling above him.

“Checking what?”

“Stuff. Atlantis.”

Rodney scowled, torn between fear that something was wrong with the city and irritation that he hadn’t been informed earlier. And if there was nothing wrong with the city, he was in the middle of a half dozen important projects, one of which needed access to the chair.

He stood there another minute, waiting for Sheppard to declare catastrophe, but when he didn’t sit up in a panic, and alarms didn’t start blaring through the entire city, Rodney set his laptop on the floor with a huff.

“How long are you planning on checking _stuff_? I have work to do.”

Sheppard tore his eyes away from the lights and images dancing across the ceiling and shot Rodney a small smile. “Need help?”

Rodney blinked. Sheppard was offering his Ancient gene to the pursuit of science, _willingly_? And without requiring promises of Batman DVDs, or his entire collection of Marvel comics, or his secret stash of coffee and chocolate bars?

“Um…yeah, okay,” Rodney answered, feeling a thrill of excitement run through him as he flipped open his laptop and pulled up the latest power generator test results.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Teyla walked into the gym, rolling her neck and loosening the muscles in her shoulders. Glancing around, she was surprised to see Ronon punching one of the practice dummies by himself.

“Ronon,” she called in greeting, crossing the room toward him.

Ronon stepped back, then spun around, knocking the practice dummy to the floor with a spinning kick.

“Hey,” he grunted, squatting down and picking the dummy up.

“Do you not usually practice with John at this hour?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “He didn’t show. Said he’s working on the city or something.”

Teyla frowned. The city had been quiet for several weeks; even Rodney had been relaxed. And yet, she knew John had been spending a lot of time working in the various labs—and most frequently in the chair room—more so than usual. She was sure there was not a problem, but that didn’t explain John’s single-minded focus on the city’s systems.

“He has been spending a lot of time in the chair room lately. Is there something going on?”

“Don’t know. McKay said there wasn’t.” Ronon popped his knuckles, suddenly grinning at her. “Wanna spar?”

ooooooooooooooooooooo

“I don’t think this is a good mission for us,” Sheppard said, setting his coffee mug on the table.

Ronon shot him a glare, but Sheppard was carefully avoiding him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weir frown.

“John, your team goes on this type of mission all the time.”

Sheppard sighed, scowling down at his coffee. Ronon’s eyes narrowed, and his irritation waned as concern took over. The other man looked exhausted, dark circles ringing his eyes, and he wondered if he’d spent most of the night working in the chair room again. It had grown to a near obsession for Sheppard in the last week.

“I would actually kind of like to go on this mission,” McKay piped up, squirming nervously in his chair. Ronon nodded in agreement. He was itching to get off world. They hadn’t gone through the gate in over two weeks.

“Sorenson’s team discovered a wealth of Ancient technology,” Weir said, focusing on Sheppard, who was still steadfastedly refusing to look at anyone. “As I understand, the few items they returned with have been tremendously helpful. One of the devices has facilitated searching the Ancient database a hundred fold.”

“And there’s more of it still there,” McKay cut in. “The stuff Sorenson brought back has been tested—it’s all safe. We need to go back and get more.”

“I’m in,” Ronon announced.

Sheppard jerked his head up at that, and this time he did meet Ronon’s gaze, glaring at him. Ronon blinked, taken aback by the ferocity in Sheppard’s face. For a brief second, he’d looked almost unrecognizable. Possessed.

“John, are you alright?” Teyla asked.

Sheppard’s gaze dropped back to the table. “Fine,” he grunted.

“Then it’s decided.” Weir stood up, looking at all of them. Her gaze lingered on Sheppard for a second longer but when he didn’t look at her, she sighed. “You depart at 1400 hours today.”

ooooooooooooooooooooo

John’s head was throbbing. He pulled out his canteen and leaned against the cool stone wall of the Ancient facility McKay was having kittens over. They’d been on the planet for an hour, and the scientist had been squawking in glee for almost that entire time. Relentlessly.

No wonder he had a headache. The ache behind his eyes had started twenty minutes into their walk to the facility and steadily grown. The heat of the summer day hadn’t helped, either. He swallowed a big gulp of water and turned to McKay, who was kneeling on the floor surrounded by Ancient toys. Any other day he might have laughed at the image of McKay the little boy, surrounded by his Christmas presents, but today, his head _hurt._

“Are you done yet?” he snapped.

McKay jerked up in surprise, his eyes growing wide. “What? We just got here like ten minutes ago?”

John felt a flash of anger course through him, taking his breath away. McKay tended to rub him wrong on his worst days, but this was something else entirely. What the hell was wrong with him? He forced himself to take a deep breath, then took another long pull on his canteen. The pain in his head morphed, spreading to the back of his head.

“What’s your problem anyway?” McKay muttered. “You’ve been snapping at me this whole mission.”

The anger was back, hot and blinding. He clamped his jaw just against the urge to scream and instead threw his canteen against the wall as hard as he could. The plastic shattered, spraying water everywhere.

“Dammit!” he yelled.

The rest of his team froze, staring at him in shock. John felt a pang of fear beneath the anger, but it was overwhelmed again at the sight of his broken canteen. He was still thirsty, and now he had no water. The air in the room felt suddenly thick and oppressive, and the pain in his head tripled, stiffening the muscles in his neck and back. Without another word, he spun on his heel and ran out of the dead outpost.

The forest around the buildings was cool and inviting. John ran deeper into the woods, relishing the quiet, but each step jarred his throbbing head, and he stumbled to a halt a few minutes later.

He was hungry. No, not hungry. Thirsty? He licked his lips, wiping away the sheen of perspiration that had had broken out across his forehead on his sleeve. He wasn’t thirsty, either, but… Something was missing. He needed… he didn’t know. He needed something. What did he need?

“Sheppard?”

Ronon’s voice cut through his jumbled thoughts, surprising him. John jumped, then bent over, feeling his stomach tighten with nausea.

“What’s wrong?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Problem was, he had no freaking clue. He dropped to his knees as his stomach flipped, and was vaguely aware of arms holding him up as his body expelled everything he’d eaten that day. Which actually wasn’t much. He’d skipped breakfast. Had he had lunch? He couldn’t remember. Maybe that was the problem.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled a few minutes later when it looked like his stomach had finished its rebellion. He pushed back just far enough to slide to his butt and lean against the nearest tree.

“John? Ronon?”

“Over here,” Ronon answered. He handed John his canteen, which John took greedily, gulping down half the contents.

Teyla and McKay ran up to them a few minutes later. Teyla moved immediately to John’s side, pressing her hands against his forehead. He felt a twinge of irritation at that, but he was suddenly exhausted. McKay was scrunching up his nose, no doubt at the lingering smell of vomit.

“John?”

His stomach was twisting into knots again and he pressed a hand against it, as if he could calm it down by touch alone. Beads of sweat were dripping down his back and chest, soaking into his shirt, and he shivered.

“What is wrong?”

“I…I don’t…know,” John stammered. He felt his face flush red with embarrassment as his body shook more, completely betraying him. “Home…want to go home…”

“Can you walk?”

John nodded, and Teyla and Ronon grabbed him by the arms and lifted him up. His legs folded immediately, sending him back to the ground.

“Maybe I should get help,” Ronon said.

“No!” John cried out. “I can walk. Just…give me a second…”

Ten minutes later, John managed to climb to his feet, leaning heavily on Ronon and McKay. He was still sweating heavily, a racing heart joining his nausea.

“How long have you been sick?” McKay asked, halfway back to the gate. “Is this why you didn’t want to go on the mission? You should have said something!”

John shook his head, then groaned when the world tilted. He felt McKay and Ronon’s grasp on him tighten, but he forced his feet to continue moving forward. “Wasn’t sick then,” he groused.

McKay pulled up short. “Wait. Are you saying you didn’t get sick until you came here? We can’t go back to Atlantis—we might all be infected.”

“I will run ahead,” Teyla said, “and call for help.”

John tried to look up at her, he really did, but his neck muscles refused to cooperate. His nausea had climbed to the back of his throat as well, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he threw up the small bit of water Ronon had given him.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Minutes after Teyla had taken off running for the gate, Sheppard had dropped to his knees and heaved, almost sending Rodney to his knees to join him. He didn’t do sick; he really, really, really didn’t do sick.

Once Sheppard had stopped throwing up, he’d collapsed on his side into a shivering, _terrifying_ ball of sickness. He was pale and sweaty, his heartbeat racing under Rodney attempts to checks his pulse. Ronon was looking panicked, which was not helping. At all.

Teyla was taking entirely too long, and maybe Ronon should have been the one to run for the gate after all, what with those longer legs. Not that he looked at Ronon’s legs, but the man was clearly tall. It wasn’t much of a leap of logic. Tall equaled long legs; long legs equaled faster runner. Simple, really. Why was Ronon the one here looking panicked and helpless with Rodney? Teyla was much better in these types of situations.

Sheppard groaned, curling tighter into himself.

“Are you going to be sick again?” Rodney asked, his stomach already flipping in sympathy.

“McKay,” Ronon hissed.

Rodney dug into vest and pulled out the lifesigns detector, widening the scanning range to see if a hazmat and medical team were on their way yet.

Nothing. He dropped his hand, resting it against Sheppard’s shaking limb.

Sheppard quieted suddenly, sucking in a deep breath.

“John?” Rodney felt panic send his heart into triple overtime. He lifted his hand, intent on stuffing the LSD into his vest, but as he pulled it up, Sheppard shuddered, whimpering in pain and beginning to shake again.

Rodney dropped his hand, trying to hold Sheppard still without dropping the LSD, and once again, Sheppard grew quiet at his touch.

“What the hell?”

As a test, he lifted the LSD, watched shivers wrack through Sheppard’s body, then pressed the device against his arm.

Sheppard’s body calmed at once. “Please stop,” he whispered.

“This makes no sense,” Rodney muttered. “Why would the LSD have this kind of effect on anyone?”

“Home…” Sheppard whispered.

“Teyla’s getting help,” Ronon said.

“Chair…”

His voice was so low that Rodney almost missed it, but he felt a burst of adrenaline at the thought. The Chair. The answer was connected to the Chair. Or Ancient technology, at the very least. He handed the LSD to Ronon to let the other man hold it against Sheppard, then slid his backpack off and dug out one of the Ancient artifacts he’d collected. It was similar to one that Sorenson had brought home, little more than a data recorder.

He had Ronon lift the LSD, then waited for Sheppard to start shaking again. When he pressed the device into Sheppard’s hand, it activated automatically, glowing brightly, and Sheppard relaxed, sighing as his eyes drifted closed.

“Sorry,” Sheppard said.

“For what?” Rodney asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Yelling at you. Throwing canteen. Don’t know…why I did that.”

“Sheppard, just…don’t worry about. Help’s on the way, so just rest. Or something.”

“’Kay,” he breathed. His hand tightened its grip on the Ancient device while the rest of his body relaxed into unconsciousness.

“I’ll be damned,” Rodney mumbled, scratching his head and wondering what the hell had caused this.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

“John? Are you here?”

John blinked open heavy eyes, feeling lethargy weighing him down. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the Athosian recliner had been so inviting, and the air crisp and clean. Sick of lying around in bed in a dark tent, he’d ventured outside, intent only on getting a few minutes of fresh air.

He glanced at his watch and saw that he’d been asleep for well over two hours. He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands against his face to wake up a little. “Over here,” he called out, his voice sounding rough.

He glanced around, spotting a water canteen on a bench just out of reach. He reached for it anyway, and grinned when Teyla came around the corner and grabbed it for him.

“Thanks,” he said, sipping at the water.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

“Better. A lot better.” He leaned back in the recliner and closed his eyes as a soft breeze rustled through the trees. He vaguely remembered the last mission, and didn’t remember returning to Atlantis at all, but the last week on the mainland—away from all Ancient technology—had cleared his mind.

“It’s strange. I remember now craving that feeling of sitting in the chair, like liquid power was thrumming through me, but at the time, I couldn’t see it. I thought I was just helping the scientists and working on the city, and that’s why it felt good to sit there for hours.”

“You were not the only one,” Teyla said. “Major Lorne and Carson and a few others were experiencing something similar, though not to the same degree.”

“They okay?”

“They are fine now. Once we realized what was happening to you, Carson tested all of the gene carriers and began treating them. Their withdrawal symptoms were much less acute.”

John shivered. His first few days of withdrawal were lost in a haze of sickness and pain, but gradually the symptoms had eased. Now he just felt washed out and tired. Beckett’s suggestion that he recuperate with the Athosians had been an excellent idea, but it wasn’t speeding up his return to strength and energy as much as he’d hoped.

“They figure out what went wrong?” he asked, cracking his jaw as he yawned.

“Rodney believes one of the devices Lieutenant Sorenson retrieved affected one of the scanners in his lab, which then began spreading to other parts of the city.” Teyla stopped, shaking her head. “I am sorry—I did not understand all of his explanation. The effect on yourself and the others was like that of an addiction to a drug, but I believe they are still trying to understand how and why.”

 _A drug addiction?_ He felt his heart beginning to thump rapidly in his chest. “But I’m good now?”

“Yes,” Teyla said, squeezing his arm. “Carson said there will be no lasting effects, and once recovered, you’ll be able to return to the city without ill-effect, now that the problem has been identified.”

John sank into the chair in relief. A small smile tugged at his lips as he turned to Teyla. “Good, cause I can’t wait to sit in that Chair again.”

Teyla stiffened next to him, causing John to laugh.

“Kidding,” he said, yawning again. “I’m just kidding. All I want to do right now is sleep.”

Teyla laughed, patting his arm. “Rest, John. Halling is roasting a salmat for dinner, which I believe you will enjoy greatly. I will fetch you in a couple of hours.”

John’s eyes were already slipping closed. He’d learned early on that Halling could have been a master chef under different circumstances. Whatever a salmat was, he did not want to miss it. He felt Teyla spreading a blanket over him and he snuggled into the chair, drifting off to sleep and dreaming of the night’s coming feast.

END


End file.
